


My Destination is Always Wherever You Are.

by Reddwarfer



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Road Trips, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: Jessica isn't quite sure how Trish managed to trick her into agreeing to join her in this mystery road trip of hers, but Trish has always been her exception.





	My Destination is Always Wherever You Are.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awpizzadog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awpizzadog/gifts).



> When I received this assignment, I was very excited. I loved reading your yuletide letter due to your sheer love of these women. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it, awpizzadog.
> 
> Thank a million to f. for the beta. This story would be poorer without your contribution. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Trish sauntered into the apartment at 8:30 on a Thursday morning with trouble written in the curve of her lips. Jessica eyed her from where she sprawled over the sofa and let out a sigh. She already regretted being awake and it hadn't even been ten minutes.

″Jessica,″ Trish greeted, eyes flitting over her apartment, taking in the pile of dirty clothes, the empty bottles, the stack of unopened mail, and half-eaten takeout from last night. Trish refrained from making a comment like she usually did, however, which told Jessica that Trish wanted something.

Jessica brought one leg down to the floor, but didn't bother sitting all the way up. ″Trish.″

Pointing at the glass on the door over the back of the couch, Jessica replied, ″Come back during the hours listed on the door.″

″There's no hours listed on the door.″ Trish rolled her eyes. She plopped down a large coffee and a paper bag on the table. ″Breakfast.″

At this, Jessica huffed but righted herself into a sitting position. ″All right,″ she said. ″Hit me.″

″Change first. You smell like you rolled around in the dumpster behind a bar,″ Trish replied.

Jessica got to her feet and pulled her shirt off, tossing it in the corner with the rest of her dirty clothes. ″I'm only doing this because you're half-right. My job, so glamorous.″ As Trish laughed, Jessica grabbed a clean pair of jeans , a new shirt, and panties from a basket near the table, and headed toward the bathroom.

She glanced in the mirror as she splashed some water on her face and gave herself a quick wipe down with a cloth. She tried not to think about why Trish decided to come to see her. A thousand scenarios flitted through her head, but nothing felt like the right one. 

After dressing quickly, Jessica walked back out to the living room, a question on her lips vanished when she spotted Trish poking through her clean clothes, tossing a few things into a travel bag. 

″I didn't think you liked my style,″ Jessica said, ″You haven't borrowed my clothes since you went through that one-day long goth phase.″

Trish snorted. ″These aren't for me. They're for you. If I thought you'd wear them, I'd have just bought you something new.″

″Am I going somewhere?″ Jessica asked. ″I don't recall any plans that'd require an overnight bag.″

Satisfied with her selections, Trish turned around to face her. ″I have to go out of state for a few days. I need you to come with me.″

″No.″ Jessica grabbed her coffee off the table and peeked into the bag Trish brought. A bagel, drowning in cream cheese, just how she liked it. Jessica pulled it out and took a large bite. 

Trish raised her eyebrows. ″No? You'd let me go all on my lonesome with no one to protect me?″

Jessica rolled her eyes, feeling it with her entire body. ″What happened to nobody touching you unless you want them to, you ninja?″

Not bothering to correct her, Trish simply shrugged, picked up the bag of clothes and slung it over her shoulder.

″I'm not going,″ Jessica repeated. 

Trish eyed her. ″Why not?″

″Liquor doesn't buy itself,″ she said, touching the lip of a nearly empty bottle of Winston. ″Plus, I can't really do any hero-ing if I'm not in the city.″

″The city can get along without you for a weekend,″ Trish replied ″You're not alone, anymore.″

″Those idiots,″ Jessica scoffed. She drained the last of the Winston's, and tossed the bottle into trash. 

Picking up a scarf, Trish held it out to Jessica. ″We can drop this off, in case you're that worried he can't get along without you for a weekend.″

Shocked into laughter, Jessica took the scarf and wrapped it around her neck. ″That still doesn't solve my other problem.″  
Trish opened her purse, pulled out a tall, slim, brown bag, and set it on the table. The glass inside the bag clunked heavily. So, not the cheap stuff. Jessica pulled the bottle out of the bag and stared at the Johnnie Walker Blue Label. ″That's a helluva bribe, Trish.″

″There's another one of those in the car, if you want to stop conjuring up excuses not to come. It's only for a few days, Jess. I already called Karen and Claire to let them know.″ 

″Fine,″ Jessica said, picking up the bottle and tucking it in the bag resting on Trish's shoulder.

~*~

Jessica waited a good twenty minutes after getting in the car—about four miles of fucking traffic—before she turned to Trish and said, ″So, c'mon, what's this really about?″

Trish glanced over at her, a smile curling her lips. ″I've got an important interview to do and I'd like the moral support.″

″Don't you usually interview people on that radio show of yours?″ Jessica asked, poking through a paper bag of snacks and magazines Trish had left in her seat. To keep her amused, she assumed.

″This is a special case,″ Trish replied, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. ″Aren't you just a little bit curious?″

Jessica sighed. ″Not really.″ Trish snorted. ″Fine, maybe a little.″

Jessica reached over to the radio, turning it on. ″I pick the music.″

Trish smiled, indulgent. ″Sure thing, Jess.″

~*~

They drove for another two and a half hours before Trish pulled off the highway and slowly made her way through a small Massachusetts town Jessica had never heard of before now. After a few minutes, she pulled into a parking lot and parked the car.

Jessica got out the car, staring up at the building. ″The Norman Rockwell Museum?″

″There's a restaurant nearby I wanted us to have lunch at, but they're not open yet. I figured we could look around while we wait,″ Trish said. 

″That's a lie,″ Jessica replied, following Trish to the front door. ″There's no way this is random.″

″Fine,″ Trish said, ″I wanted to come, happy? I've wanted to come for a while and never had the chance before now.″

Trish paid for their admissions, and they wandered around the building, looking at the various paintings the museum had on display. Some, she recognized, to her surprise. Jessica didn't really see herself as an art or museum person, but some of these paintings were cute enough. Trish, however, seemed to be looking for something in particular.

″Here,″ Trish said, grabbing Jessica's hand and bringing her over to a specific painting. There was a girl sitting on a bench, shit-eating grin on her face, despite the black eye and the impending visit to the principal's office. ″Reminds me of you, a bit.″

″I don't smile,″ Jessica replied, not wanting to admit she liked the painting. 

Trish knocked her shoulder against Jessica's. ″I always thought: if someone knew you, like I do. If they knew what you've done. The people you've protected, saved...well, maybe seventy years from now, someone will be visiting a museum to see paintings of you on the wall.″

″What'll they call it, alcoholic in repose?″ Jessica scoffed. Whenever Trish started to talk like this, a sick feeling churned in the pit of Jessica's stomach. She felt like a fraud, like whenever Trish looked at her, she was seeing someone else entirely. 

″You never give yourself enough credit for all the good you've done.″ Trish gave her hand a squeeze.

Jessica shrugged but didn't let go of Trish's hand. ″Well...″

″Maybe I'll get a piece made of you,″ Trish said, then. ″Do you think Captain America takes commissions?″

″Ha.″ Jessica shook her head. ″Please don't.″

″Yeah,″ Trish said, nodding. ″I like this idea. I'll have them do you with the costume I had made for you. You'll be immortalized forever. The jewel of New York City.″

″Oh, god,″ Jessica slumped her shoulders. ″I will never forgive you.″

Trish laughed, high and bright, and Jessica loved the sound of it. ″It'll be perfect.″

″You're banned,″ Jessica replied, tugging Trish away from the painting and towards the door. 

Trish turned to her, smile wide. ″From what?″

″Everything ever. C'mon, you promised me food and all this happy art is giving me cavities.″

Still smiling, Trish followed her back to the car.

~*~

After a long lunch, they got back in the car. Jessica tried to snag the GPS once to find their mystery destination, but Trish grabbed her wrist, smirk on her face, before she managed it.

″Goddamned ninja,″ Jessica grumbled, shifting in her seat. She poured some of her nice whiskey into a coffee cup she'd grabbed at the last Dunkin' Donuts they'd passed. 

Trish eyed her, but didn't comment. Jessica took that as a win.

A few minutes passed in silence, before Trish reached over and turned up the radio as some pop song came on that Jessica didn't recognize. 

″So, are you going to tell me where the hell we're going for this mystery interview of yours?″

″Eventually, maybe,″ Trish said, tapping her fingers to the beat of the song on the radio. 

Jessica glanced at the signs on the highway. ″We're not going to Boston, are we? I'm pretty sure it's illegal.″

Trish laughed. ″I left my pinstripes at home, don't worry. Plus, they're just Red Sox fans. I'm pretty sure I could take them.″ 

″Yeah, you're a real hellcat, Trish.″ The idea of Trish getting into a barroom brawl with angry Sox fans bordered on the absurd.

″And don't you forget it.″

″Who could you possibly have to interview in Boston?″ Jessica asked, resigned.

″Carol Danvers,″ Trish replied, darting a quick glance over to her.

Jessica turned in her seat, facing Trish. ″Bullshit.″

Trish didn't say anything for a minute until she finally let out the laugh building inside. ″Okay, fine. I'm not interviewing Carol Danvers. Don't worry about it so much. Plus, we're not going to Boston.″ She took exit 26B, heading toward Lowell instead of keeping east toward Boston. ″I wouldn't do that to you.″

″Nice to know you still love me,″ Jessica grumped, slouching in her seat, putting her boot up on the dashboard as she cradled her coffee cup.

″Yeah, just a little bit,″ Trish agreed.

~*~

Another two and a half hours passed before they finally pulled into the parking lot of the Margate Resort in Laconia, New Hampshire.

″Isn't this the city with the bike convention?″ Jessica asked, getting out of the car. She didn't quite care where they were going as long as it meant she didn't have to be in the car for at least twenty-four hours. 

″Yeah,″ Trish said. ″Though that's in June, I think. It should be pretty quiet this weekend.″

″Good,″ Jessica replied, looking around. Nice place, she thought. The sort of quiet, relaxing place Trish'd go to treat herself.

Their room was on the second floor of the Lakeside Building, room facing the water. It had a single King-sized bed. ″It was the only room left on this side of building,″ Trish explained, gesturing to the one bed. ″We've shared before. I didn't think it'd be a problem.″

Jessica shrugged. Half the time, she didn't sleep at all, anyhow. ″Do you want to tell me what's really going on, now?″

″What do you mean?″ Trish asked as she busied herself unpacking their clothes and putting them in the drawers and on the hangers. 

″You're not coming here for an interview,″ Jessica said, arms crossed. ″I let you drag me here without bitching.″ At Trish's raised eyebrow, Jessica amended, ″Without bitching much.″

″I just thought,″ Trish started, shoulders slumped a bit. She turned, crossing her arms to cup her elbows. ″I just thought we could get away from it all, just for a bit. I know I put a lot of pressure on you to be a hero. I don't regret it, but sometimes. I think we need a chance to just be us, even if for a weekend. I don't want to always have to share you with the world.″

Jessica crossed the room to Trish, but stopped short of her. She didn't know what to say to her. She never did, really. Every time she looked a Trish, a world of emotion bubbled inside of her only to get choked off at her throat. ″Well, I'm here, aren't I?″

″Yeah,″ Trish said, giving a soft, private smile Jessica only saw rarely. ″You are.″ She reached her hand out, and Jessica didn't allow a moment to second-guess herself, and reached back.

″I love you,″ Trish said, rubbing her thumb along the top of Jessica's hand. ″I always have.″

Jessica looked at the ground, but didn't let go. ″I've already said it once. Don't make me do it again.'

″You think I can't hear you saying it, even if you don't say the words?″ Trish asked, and she tugged Jessica just the slightest bit closer. She looked up, and saw the way Trish looked at her, and shivered. Even though she saw it coming, Jessica hadn't been ready for the kiss. She didn't let it show, surging closer, holding onto Trish with both arms, a little too tight, as if she worried Trish would disappear if she loosened her grip. For all that her grip was tight, the kiss stayed sweet. Their lips dragging lightly against each other, with a hint of tongue. Each one adding just the slightest bit of pressure. Jessica briefly opened her eyes to see Trisha staring back at her. She quickly closed them, nibbling Trish's bottom lip lightly between her teeth. Trish's hand flexed on her shoulder, moaning quietly under her breath, but then she pulled back. Jessica looked back at her, hoping not to see regret. 

″I'm not going to disappear on you,″ Trish said, looking directly in her eyes.

Jessica tried not to stare at Trish's lips. ″That's only because I stole your car keys when you weren't looking.″

Trish chuckled, shaking her head a bit. ″Come to bed with me?″

Jessica watched as Trish sat down on the bed, looking up at her, as open and vulnerable as she'd ever seen her. All the crass jokes and stupid comments died on her tongue. She crawled up on the bed, and gathered Trish in her arms, looked straight in her eyes, and said, ″I'd follow you anywhere.″

The End

**Author's Note:**

> The painting listed in this story "Girl With The Black Eye" (which is also known by other names), isn't actually in this museum. It's in Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut. I wanted to include that the painting was on loan in the story, but it messed with the flow of the conversation. *shrugs*


End file.
